


A King’s Jewel

by QueenOfRohirrim



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Hair Brushing, Hair Washing, M/M, Pampering, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Preparing for Bard’s Coronation, Romantic Intent, Self Admiration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 03:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19123690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfRohirrim/pseuds/QueenOfRohirrim
Summary: Thranduil wants to look his best for the coronation ceremony of King Bard I of Dale





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Aka Thranduil being sexy and mostly naked in a steamy private bath house 
> 
> I think I have a problem XD

The Elven King breathed in deeply the misty, warm air that blanketed his being, smiling softly as he allowed himself to go limp in his polished wood chair, head tilted back just so that his long, shimmering hair pooled out perfectly into the water of the small running bath waiting to catch it. 

Two elf maidens knelt at each side of him, gently washing and grooming his hands and nails, and a third sat lower, massaging his ankles and feet after they had soaked in another small pool of the river’s cool water, turned warm by the fires burning just beneath the marble floor.

It was presently a great rarity for the king to have such peaceful moments to himself, and this one, though it would certainly be brief, was certainly a marvelous pleasure.

“My lord, Thranduil...” 

The King frowned and opened his eyes to look at whoever it was that dare interrupt such a peace that he had found himself locked within.

“What could possibly be so important that you feel the need to intrude into my private bath without my consent?” He inquired of the nervous guard who stood at the doorway of the royal bathing chamber. 

“My lord...” the guard spoke again, swallowing hard. “Forgive me, but the prince wishes to speak with you. He was quite insistent.” 

“Then send him in.” Thranduil stated firmly, shutting his eyes back in an attempt to relax as two of his handmaidens gently ran their small silver toothed combs through his long, silky hair.

The door to his bathing chamber opened again and closed back and he could hear his son’s familiar footsteps approaching through the steam.

“Ada?” 

“What is it you want, dear one?” Thranduil sighed, while the two maids at his head ceased with their combing and began to bathe the Kings golden white locks with several bottles of sweet smelling oils. “I’m quite busy at the moment.” 

“I see.” Legolas all but rolled his eyes.

“Why such a unsavory tone?” Thranduil demanded, sighing heavily as the silver combs began their lovely long strokes through his hair. It was a feeling he quite enjoyed, even with Legolas’ rude interruption continuing on.

“You are mistaken.” Legolas lied. “My tone is not “unsavory” and I only came to tell you that the royal seamstress has finished your new robes. They are waiting for you in your wardrobe.”

“You are angry with me.” Thranduil asked, as if he had ignored everything Legolas had told him.

“I’m not angry.” His son frowned. “I simply do not understand why so much preparation is necessary. We travel to attend a coronation of a king among men, not an elven ruler.” 

“A coronation none the less.” Thranduil answered innocently, though a hint of a wicked smile played at the corners of his mouth. 

“Have you so much interest in the future King of Dale?” Legolas accused his father.

“Much interest.” Thranduil chuckled, allowing the smile to come through fully, as he could not keep it hidden any longer. 

Legolas fought the urge to roll his eyes again. “Very well.” He muttered, feeling awkward for having even breeched the subject. Though, of course, he hadn’t expected such a blatant, honest answer from his father. “I’ll take my leave of you now, Ada.” 

The elven prince turned on his heel to exit the King’s private bath, hoping to return to his own chambers to find a fine bottle of wine to wash away any thoughts of his father’s romantic aspirations from his mind.

“Prepare to leave at dawn, melda ion.” Thranduil called after him, still smirking to himself when he heard the heavy chamber door open and close once more.

“We have finished with your hair, my lord.” One of the combing maidens spoke softly to the king.

“Wonderful.” Thranduil replied, moving to stand from his chair. “Is my bath hot enough yet?” 

The other maids collected their various grooming tools and promptly left, their jobs finished.

“Yes, my lord.” One combing maid, red haired and eyes of glimmering emerald, confirmed as she carefully pinned Thranduil’s wet locks up into a bun.

Meanwhile the other maid, this one dark haired with obsidian eyes to match, pulled the strings of the King’s silk bath robe open. The soft, thin garment slipped from his shoulders easily and revealed his body in all of its immortal glory.

He smiled again when he saw himself reflected in the steaming pool before him, perfect at every crook and crevice, every line and curve. 

His royal majesty, King Bard, would be a fool to refuse such a gem.


	2. A Kingly Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bard is crowned The King of Dale & Thranduil has a proper gift to congratulate him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of my lovely readers wanted me to add onto this so here’s the continuation :) I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Thank you for the feedback!

A heavy crown of gold and glittering blue sapphires was placed upon King Bard’s head.

The crowd that had gathered to witness his coronation began to clap and cheer their congratulations and well wishes to the new ruler of Dale. 

Bard felt a bit out of place, scarcely believing still that this was not all a incredibly vivid dream, but rather his new reality. 

He was now a king and exactly how one went about being a king, he hadn’t a clue.

Bard was a simple man of Laketown. A bargeman! A bloody peasant!

“The King of Dale...” A soft, silky voice like honey drew the newly crowned monarch from the doubts swarming his mind, and he turned to behold the Elf King, Thranduil, looking just as immaculate and as beautiful as ever. “Long may you reign, dear friend.”

“My Lord Thranduil.” Bard bowed to the elf respectfully.

Thranduil smiled fondly. “I am no longer your lord, Bard.” He reminded the man who stood before him. “Though I must say I do so enjoy your continued eagerness to bow to me.”

Bard looked Thranduil up and down, taking in every bit of him with thirsting eyes. The King of Mirkwood was a flawless figure, clothed in fine new robes that glimmered in the light as if they’d been strewn together with a million tiny bits of diamond. However, what struck Bard most about Thranduil’s new attire was that every piece was dyed with the deep blue and gold of his own royal banner. Thranduil was dressed in the colors of Bard’s house.

“You look well...” The new King swallowed hard, feeling a knot beginning to form in the back of his throat. What was he supposed to say to such a gesture anyway? Especially in the presence of his children and all of the people who were now his subjects...

“I look well?” The Elf King asked, raising a brow at Bard, as if he were terribly offended.

“No! I mean...Forgive me, My Lord...Thranduil! I...I suppose I’m a bit lost...” Bard rambled on pathetically, looking around him to be sure that Sigrid, Bain, or Tilda weren’t lurking nearby.

Thankfully they seemed to all be preoccupied, talking with other guests or, in Tilda’s case, sneaking sweets from the banquet table. 

“Lost indeed.” Thranduil agreed with Bard, nodding to the empty seat next to the new king’s throne. It had been meant for Bain, the rightful heir of Dale, but surely he wouldn’t mind Thranduil using it for a moment.

“Please!” Bard consented. “Sit down.” 

“You are too kind, your grace.” Thranduil chuckled softly, sitting down carefully next to Bard and leaning over to whisper to the king so that no one else would hear. “Forgive me for being so forward with my intentions, but I have not come all this way for a simple feast and festival.”

“I didn’t imagine you had.” Bard sighed deeply, tensing as Thranduil snaked a hand onto his thigh. 

“You are a king now.” He whispered then, his voice sending shivers down Bard’s spine. “A king deserves a coronation gift fitting of his regal majesty.”

“And what would that gift be?” Bard ventured bravely, earning a smirk from his elvish ally.

“You will summon me to your bed chamber when the celebrations have ceased.” Thranduil insisted. “Then you shall see.” 

He stood then, removing his hand and walking back down toward the table where he had left Legolas and the rest of his guards.

Bard felt as if he might burst into flames, his face heated and blushing bright crimson as he watched Thranduil go.

....

“Men certainly do tire easily.” Thranduil sighed with a small smirk as Bard rolled off of him, breathing labored and stressed liked he’d been holding it for an hour.

“I’m not finished yet.” Bard insisted. “Just give me a moment to recover. Three times all at once isn’t something we do very often in the realms of men.”

“As I said...” Thranduil repeated himself, rolling onto his side to watch Bard’s beautifully muscled chest heave over and over and over again. “Men tire easily.”

“Do I disappoint you?” The new King asked, moving then to push his lips onto Thranduil’s mouth with some force.

“Oh no, your grace...” Thranduil gasped with delight as he was kissed. “Quite the contrary.”


End file.
